The Power of Positive Regard

Being recognized and affirmed by a powerful adult can be life-changing for a young
person.

"I think if I had to put a finger on what I
consider a good education, a good
radical education, it wouldn't be anything
about methods or techniques. It would be loving people first."

—Myles Horton, We Make the
Road by Walking: Conversations on Education and Social Change

There's a tiny scene in the film Boyhood: A character off-handedly mentions to a young Latino man that
he is smart. Later in the film, the man identifies how that comment, that bit of simple and unsupported praise, was a pivotal moment that
changed his life and inspired him to go back to school.

Many voices in the education community question the value of such simple, unearned praise,
yet done in the right spirit, it can help an
educator change a student's life. Of course, I also want much of the praise I give students to be based on specific evidence. I support
educators who make room for students to evaluate their own work. And I believe praise should never be delivered as a final judgment of
character—because such hubris would also allow us to deliver a damning assessment that could haunt a student for years.

But I believe offering praise that's not based on achievement—praise that communicates each person's
unassailable right to a unique place in our human community—is important. For many students, such heartfelt and spontaneous praise is
invaluable.

The Power of (Unconditional) Positive
Regard

Many of us have had the
experience of being buoyed up by adult
praise. There was a teacher, grandmother, coach—a trusted adult—who looked at us and communicated in some fashion, "I notice
you for who you are, and who you are is worthy." That notion, often called unconditional positive regard, is a
foundation of the work of psychologist Carl Rogers. Positive regard of your human existence is not an earned status. You don't have to
dance a certain way, dress a certain way, talk a certain way, or do anything special to be special.

People who historically have not experienced receiving unconditional positive regard as a
birthright have a harsher life. Consider how
rarely people from minority groups explicitly hear in the dominant mainstream culture, "your life mattered from the moment you were
born." Given the recent murders of young black men and women, it's chilling to consider what W.E.B. Du Bois (1903), writing a
century ago about the chronic abuse of black people, asked: "How does it feel to be a problem?"

Among the many outcomes of the U.S. Civil rights movement were two important cultural
shifts: Black history became a school subject and
"Black is Beautiful" became a slogan. That slogan (echoed in "Black Lives Matter") spoke to the belief that you were born
beautiful when you were born black; you didn't have to do anything to your hair or skin to be considered beautiful. It was great to hear
it said, loud and proud.

You Are Not a Test Score

Our national obsession with achievement
testing has made it harder to praise students
just for who they are, not for their academic accomplishments. Schools have bent toward the end of the spectrum that identifies and
celebrates only one way of being a student—scoring well on mandated tests. Teachers are under tremendous pressure to inch up test
scores. My work takes me to a wide range of schools, and I often hear teachers say, "This is how you'll see this question on the
test." When high test scores become the main thing policymakers expect, it's easy for us to fall into a school culture that
eliminates other avenues of recognition.

This achievement obsession has been countered by Carol Dweck's work (2006) on the
importance of instilling growth mindsets and
praising effort—because effort is within students' control and observable. Educators are encouraged to say things like, "I see
you put in the effort to correct your error, and that helped you get the right answer." Equally important is that praise for effort be
delivered with joy and heartfelt appreciation: "The smile on my face now is from watching the effort you put into correcting your error.
I hope you too feel good about your work." Students need more than data—they need our emotional connections.

I need to show
my hand here: I don't think our schools' goal is to outscore other countries on standardized tests. And I don't think students
who emerge from schools should be measured by their capacity to be technicians for big companies. I'd like my students to achieve
measurable basic skills and to be happy to learn, to know how to participate in our democracy, to create from their thoughts and with their
hands what is uniquely theirs to create—and to believe that they are innately worthy members of our society.

In every school I work in, I tell each of my students individually at some point that I find
him or her funny, clever, or
creative—a pleasure to have around. I tell students that they have a cool way of thinking, that they make me think about things, that
I'm happy to see them walk into my room each day. Very rarely do students ask for evidence. If asked, I'll have it in the form of a
story or an observation, because there is something unique and wonderful about every human being. But few have ever asked. I do the same for
teachers I work with or lead. They too make me smile, ponder, and grow—and I tell them so.

Caring Before They Achieve

Brain research has made clear that humans are as
much emotional creatures as cognitive ones.
Learning is transactional—not just cognitively, but emotionally. Our thinking is inextricably laced with our feelings.
Students—from kindergarteners to high schoolers—look to educators for unconditional acceptance. We hear all the time that our
best teachers love their students, regardless of their age or achievement. They love their students before they try,
before they achieve.

I've spent a lot of my career working with overlooked, economically exploited, and
abused students. Many of them, like the Latino character in Boyhood, are
from minority groups who need to experience
caring communication and supportive expectations early and repeatedly in their relationships in school. I've often looked a young person
in the eye and said, "You're capable of great things. I believe in you." I said this before I had rock-solid evidence to support
my claims, but the student could hear it only if I truly believed it.

Neuroscience tells
us that humans have mirror neurons, the
capacity to engender in another person a strong feeling we ourselves are having. When I say "I believe in you," I'm not a
statistician reciting data; I am working in a far deeper vein of human connectedness. My belief in students, my love for them, becomes part
of the very wiring of their existence.

There is a spiritual aspect to teaching if you
believe you have the ability to help all
students experience their innate, best inner selves. As Deepak Chopra (2011) says,

Everyone has a purpose in life … a unique
gift or special talent to give to others. And when we blend this unique talent with service to others, we experience the ecstasy and
exultation of our own spirit, which is the ultimate goal of all goals.

Chopra's language is miles away from the imperative to identify students' worth by
measuring incremental growth on objective
criteria.

Making It Happen

Let's consider some practices that help teachers
express unconditional positive regard, that
recognize the range of human qualities to value in students, and that don't encourage meaningless repetitions of "good job."

• In your own words, say to every student every day—and frequently to the whole
class—"You are capable of learning
everything in the lessons. I'll help you succeed as you try. You are all worthwhile people."

• Make the effort to enjoy every student. Say hello to every one of them first thing every day, with a look in the
eye and maybe a handshake or fist bump. Let each of them know that by crossing the threshold of your classroom, in your eyes they are worthy
of being part of the class. For students who are wary of adults and push away connections, consistently throw in a quick observation of
their uniqueness: "Love that hat" or "Your essay got me thinking."

• End classes with one minute of students acknowledging one another positively. Model and
participate: "I saw Darnell make Seth
smile"; "I'm going to be thinking all day about Siobhan's theory about the election."

• Let students know you notice and are affected by their special characteristics:
"Marie, I was watching you totally focused on your
essay. That made my day. I have this image of you hard at work that will make me smile for a long time." "Chen, when I see how often
you help other students, I realize again what caring people do in this world. Thanks." There will be occasional students who don't
believe you are sincere. For them, your sincerity must be stronger and deeper than their doubt—and must emerge moment after moment,
day after day, to overcome their doubt. Building trust and relationships isn't a one-time event, but a foundation of best practice.

• Praise students even as you give them critical feedback or a consequence: "Jo,
you're going to have to stay after today and
clean up that mess you made. I appreciate right now that you're listening to me calmly and letting me finish my sentence."

• Give choices and options for lessons and assessments. Highlight for students your
discoveries about their unique passions: "Sasha,
I'm not surprised you wanted do the painting option. You get great joy in doing art. I love to watch you having so much fun."

• Find opportunities (quick e-mails home, comments on report cards, parent-night
conversations) to provide a student and his or her
parents with information about that student's unique ways of being. This is for high school teachers, too! The focus on standardized
tests doesn't prevent teachers from sharing other forms of acknowledgement and affirmation.

• Administrators, try this: leave your office when students are in the hallways and say as
many positive things as you can in three
minutes: "Benji, glad to see you back in school"; "Connie, your teacher said your joke made the entire class laugh." Do it
for staff, too: "Ms. Jones, thanks for coming early to the staff meeting;" "Ms. Lee, it's good to see you today—as it
is every day."

Offering unconditional positive regard to students may become your favorite daily activity.
And the power you have as a role model for
others at school—whether you're the principal or one teacher among many—will ripple out to every corner of the building,
leading to a culture that appreciates everyone.

References

Chopra, D. (2011). The
seven spiritual laws of success: A practical guide to the fulfillment of your
dreams. San Francisco: Amber-Allen Publishing.